Refract
by EternalRose
Summary: By the time Roxas opened his eyes, Axel was still grinning at him as always. His emerald eyes sparkling with mischief as usual. And then Roxas blinked. And just as quickly, it seemed, as Axel appeared, he was gone. Axel/Roxas implied.


**Refraction**

The light refracted, bending slightly off the glowing white marble to delve into the two icy blue pools trailing over the unchanging surroundings. The long midnight lashes blinked from the sharpness of the suns glare as water filed around the lips of his eyes, blurring his otherwise perfect vision.

It was a funny thing; light, that is. There could never be a perfect amount of it. There can be too much so that it burns, or stings your eyes to look at it, or there can be too little where you're left to grope around in the darkness. That was the light he was most familiar with. The faint, almost discreet light in the darkness, barely enough so that you could see. Barely enough to provide you enough strength to hope, or attain any sort of emotion near to happiness and mirth. Barely enough to attain any emotion at all. But he was devoid of all emotion, at least that was what he had thought. When he first realised it, he tried too hard to shield himself from it; the warm, tingling happy feelings making his chest ache in the absence of his heart - in a literal sense, of course.

A Nobody wasn't a Nobody because he had a heart. A Nobody wanted a heart so desperately, unconsciously or no, that they sought through their desperation to attain anything close to it, but shut themselves away from any lingering warmth from a touch or kind word.

The were in tune with the darkness that shielded them.

He took his un-gloved hand and held it in front of him, up to the blinding sunlight so that it cast a slight shadow over his face. The pure white skin glistened, even whiter than usual, but the warmth of the suns rays barely tingled against his exposed skin. They just went straight through him like a knife cutting through an apple, straight blindingly into his eyes.

Usually, he would close them, or look away, but the aching bitterness of tears protecting his eyes from harm and sliding along his tinged cheeks, made it all worth it. To feel the cool droplets sliding along his cheeks - although not because he was 'sad' or 'hurt', but just to feel what they actually felt like was enough to satisfy him.

Then, he closed them, slowly and leisurely as the remaining tears wet his long lashes, and joined the others, melting along his lips. They were salty, bitter, wet. They hurt him like hell.

Everything was quiet. There was no reassuring, calm voice next to him. There was no soft, gentle breathing or manly laughter.

It was just a dull silence.

And it was killing him.

He didn't understand of course. He didn't understand anything about what he was feeling. All he knew was that his life - though a pitiable excuse for a life that it was - was gradually falling apart. And he knew the source of it; it was him. It was the way he felt when he saw that sly grin on his face, that irresistible gleam in his eyes and that calm, soothing presence he provided without question. It was the way he made him able to 'feel' so many different emotions that he could only every dream of knowing what they actually where. And though they made the void in his chest spill with this warm, fuzzy feeling - joy?- and as soon as he left how quickly it seemed to just fizzle out like it was never actually there in the first place.

He could never understand how or why he managed to feel like this, because a Nobody without a heart was just a shell devoid of all emotion - supposedly. But he couldn't be imagining such things.

Now that fire, that spark was gone, but his presence lingered. It followed him even when he was alone. He could feel him.

Sitting on the Clock Tower in the middle of the day did nothing to assist this problem. For one, he realised just how alone he was and two, this place was were they spent their spare time, just lounging away, watching the sunset with a sea salt ice cream in their mouths. The salty bitterness of his tears only made those memories all the more painful, but as long as he could feel something - anything - then it was okay.

Sighing, he leant back against the cold stony floor, legs sprawled over edge, dangling limply. He looked up at the stone ceiling blankly, tracing over the cracks with his eyes. They offered little distarction; he could almost predict the next curve or depth of each dent in the stone after lying in that very same position many times before, letting the days just aimlessly pass him by. His right hand fell to his side, the other resting over where his heart should be. The absence of the beating seemed to echo in the silence, almost tauntingly, but he was comforted with the knowledge that it wouldn't be the case for long. Soon, he would definitely find his Somebody.

Soon he would become whole.

He felt heat smouldering his right hand, the feeling of someone's hand gripping onto his, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It tingled even a little.

Stubbornly, he didn't turn to acknowledge the new presence. It was just a memory; an apparition of the past. But it felt so real that he had almost turned to check that it was not just his imagination. Almost.

"Roxas," the smooth, silky voice spoke gently.

If Roxas had a heart, he was sure that it would have been beating faster than usual. But the fact was, he didn't. He just closed his eyes, listening to the voice. A memory. A deep-rooted fragment of the past.

"Do you feel that?"

_Yeah_, Roxas thought numbly. _I can feel it_.

_Can you?_

There was short humourless laugh and the owner of the hand released their grip on his captive one. "Someday we will."

Roxas squeezed his eyes tighter together.

"I've been thinking," the man continued, thoughtfully. "If we were to die right now, is there anything you'd want to re-do or do?"

He remembered the funny look he sent him at that question. Pointless as it was, the other had just laughed again. But this time, the laughter seemed distorted, almost echoic. Just a distant memory.

"I mean we've had some pretty decent times together, but that's just… it, really. They're just memories." His voice was hollow, and almost a whisper. "It's just existing, isn't it. A Nobodies doomed, stoic existence."

Roxas squirmed from his lying position, balling his hands into taught fists at his sides. His eyes opened, squinting at the light now infiltrating his pupils. He turned his head and smiled; Axel was sat, back pressed against the wall, a fresh popsicle in his hand. His green eyes were glazed over somewhat in thought; an unusual sight because Axel was known for his fiery, provocative temperament. He was most definitely not a thinker - he acted.

"Are they all that bad?" Roxas muttered to the manifestation. "The memories?"

"No," came the short reply.

"You think that they're pointless, though."

Axel merely smiled, shoving the ice-cream into his mouth. "Not pointless, just nondescript."

"You're right. We've never really achieved anything," Roxas agreed gently, sitting up. "Like you said, we're just existing."

"Existing is a trial in its own right," Axel added, still looking into the horizon. "But it gets easier."

Roxas took the rebuke in silence, taking a lick of his own ice-cream (it was a memory, after all). The salt stung his tongue, but he noticed something off about it. Usually, it was bitter and sweet at the same time but now it was just… bland. There was no taste to it at all. He looked down at the offensive ice-cream and it was gone.

A little surprised, he checked around him and then, in panic he looked at his companion. Axel was still sat there, in the same relaxed position. Roxas calmed down a little.

"You were wrong about one thing, though," he spoke up. "We're not all doomed."

Axel turned to look at him with a slight pained expression. His fiery red mane brushing against the wall. "You're pretty lucky."

He didn't feel lucky.

Roxas' grip tightened on the stony edge and as usual, the twang of pain through his fingers barely reached him. But he couldn't deny that it was there.

"Do you remember your Somebody?"

Axel smiled sadly, but laughed a little. "Even if I did it would make little difference."

"I wish I knew your Somebody."

"I doubt he'd be half the person Sora is," he said playfully.

Roxas smiled in spite of himself. "Sora's some guy."

"He sure is."

Axel was quiet for a moment. The brief silence that ensued wasn't uncomfortable, though. It was calm and peaceful but it didn't last. Tranquillity, after all, was a fickle thing.

"You're wrong, too, you know. Even though it hasn't been very long since we met, we achieved one thing." His fiery-haired friend spoke up.

Roxas just looked at him. "Partnership?"

Axel grinned manically - there was the humorous, pyromaniac he knew. "A friendship."

Roxas almost felt like… crying? Was that what he was feeling right then? Sadness or happiness? He couldn't tell, but whichever emotion it had been, was so strong that he forced himself to look away, because he felt the void in his chest shrinking. That was the effect Axel had on him; he could make a rupture of emotion stir within the void, make his skin tingle, make his mind spiral out of control. Before Axel there had been nothing but darkness, a stark reminder of the empty shell he was, because in truth, he was just a soulless monster without a heart. Now, in the company of Axel, he always felt a little more complete; a little more whole.

He made him feel like he had a heart. And the fact that he didn't seemed a little more bearable. But that was the past.

"You'll never forget me, right?" he asked quietly. "You know, when things end."

"Course not, buddy!" Axel's voice sounded both amused and sad at the same time. Roxas could only imagine the expression on his face as he closed his eyes again. "Why suddenly ask?"

Roxas bit his lip. "You know why."

"Oh." There it was; the painfully agonised voice of Axel as he realised where the conversation was heading. It was a topic they're avoided for months now, but there was no way that they could possibly go that any longer. Roxas had made his decision. There was no changing that.

He was going to find his Somebody.

"When?" Axel probed, softly.

"Soon," the blonde admitted, still not looking.

"But we'll always be partners, right?" Axel's voice was loud and animated again.

Roxas had nodded at him, returning the smile, though a little forced. "Till the end."

By the time Roxas opened his eyes, Axel was still grinning at him as always. His emerald eyes sparkling with mischief as usual. He reached out to ruffle his hair playfully; Roxas' skin tingled at the small, brief contact. His hand felt warm and kind, instantly soothing him as he grinned. And then Roxas blinked.

And just as quickly, it seemed, as Axel appeared, he was gone.

Roxas was staring off into the space Axel usually sat, feeling more lonely than ever. These apparitions happened a lot lately. They were haunting him and almost punishing him for wanting to find his Somebody. But Roxas knew that no matter what he couldn't let anything get in the way of him finding Sora - not even Axel.

He hadn't seen him since Axel had tried to stop him in the World That Never Was. He knew he had to go. There was so much that he wanted to know - he needed to know and being stuck in that tower with the Organisation wasn't getting him any closer to the information he needed. But after he left, he knew that the close bond he had with Axel would never be the same again. That night he had hurt him, so much that perhaps they'd never even be considered acquaintances again, but still, he couldn't deny that small ray of hope that one day, perhaps soon, they would meet again. And even if it wasn't like the way they used to be, as long as Roxas could hear his voice - one that wasn't only a side effect of exhaustion - and see his face, then he knew that everything would be fine.

He hoped at least. And that hope was just a by-product of being in the company of someone - who was in his opinion, a very remarkable person. Someone that despite having his heart torn away from him, or living in the darkness, could still smile and laugh. Anyone who denied that Axel wasn't special had no idea what special was, because Axel, even though Roxas didn't know many people to begin with, was the only person that actually made him feel needed.

Axel was there for him. Axel made him laugh. Axel was just… Axel and Roxas had always liked that aspect, even though he rarely admitted it to himself. In actual fact, Roxas could hardly bare the separation because his best friend served as the one consistent thing in his life - something that he knew would be there when he woke up to face the next day. He made life easier, smoother. Lively.

_You wouldn't understand why-_

He was the flames that lit up the darkness, like the sun; an orange glowing splendour amidst the ocean of blue skies. He watched it sink into the horizon, almost longingly and as he did, he allowed all thought of Axel to evaporate.

_It hurts so much but-_

He had other things to concentrate on now; he had to find Sora. He had to, because he needed to secure the knowledge of what exactly he was and who his Somebody, Sora, was. He needed to know why it was that he wielded the keyblades that came in his aid whenever he called them. He wanted to know why he was the 'Key of Destiny'. He needed to secure his future; an existence that had meaning so that he was just not... existing. Just existing with no purpose hardly deserved the a term: a life. And even though he knew that, the image of Axel's trademark smirk still lingered on his conscious like a stain as he closed his eyes.

"If I had a heart," Axel's voice rang in the oncoming darkness. "I'd give it to you."

Roxas smiled. Axel was always sentimental like that and trust him to say that just before he was going to leave. He was one of those spur of the moment people where you didn't quite know what to expect next - Roxas liked that part of him, too. Axel was willingly going to give his heart, if he had one, to him. And you know what, he'd do exactly the same without question.

_Even though I need you - _

Axel could have his heart. It would always belong to Axel, even though he might never know it. It would always belong to him and no-one else.

_I have to let you go._

If only he understood the true meaning behind it. If only he had a heart.

But thinking about what you want or need won't make life refract like the light surrounding him. You had to be strong enough to face it full on, to make it bounce in a new direction and not go straight through you. You had to make it refract.


End file.
